


Let's go home, you lazybones...

by font_romantic



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Female Frisk (Undertale), Final Death, No More Resets (Undertale), Other, Sad Ending, Sans-centric, Skeletons bleeding, Snowdin (Undertale), Spoilers - Undertale Genocide Route, Undertale Genocide Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 03:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/font_romantic/pseuds/font_romantic
Summary: like a featherbedis the snow, promising usdeath's sleep will be soft- peter galen massey





	Let's go home, you lazybones...

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings regarding Sans and his relationship with Papyrus. It was actually the relationship I saw in After!Tale that really hooked me into this fandom with all the sads and emotions and brother death, so I thought I'd pay tribute to that, as well as, to an image I saw on DeviantArt that got me right in the feels. 
> 
> I'll link it, and I think it's unrelated, but it got me thinking about this so I had to write it down.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the sad.
> 
> \---
> 
> Oh, right- just a note- the love that's mentioned is more of a familial love than a romantic love. Sans is only shipped with death in this one guys, surry!

It was cold out. Lying there, he could see his breath leave his slack jaw in thick clouds of frosted smoke and puffed, frigid air. It was almost laughable how relaxed he felt despite the pain that was coursing through him from where she’d struck. He could almost still feel the knife digging into his sternum and slicing down through his rib cage to gouge at his soul. It hurt, oh, it hurt like hell, but he had to keep a straight face. 

He couldn’t let her know she’d gotten to him. In more ways than one, even.

For a moment, before the ashes and the genocide, before the dirty, brother killing and the grief, he’d thought he’d fallen in love with her. She laughed at all his jokes, didn’t mind the puns, loved his brother, played along- she’d hit all the right marks since their first meeting in the woods- and yet…

“heh...” he guessed he’d always felt like there was something off about her. 

Like she was just too good to be true. And he was right, like he was always right. He’d seen what she’d done to his friend beyond the ruins, saw the eventual trail of chaos and malice she’d wrought through his town, through the underground, through his heart-

And, worst of all, he saw what she’d done to his brother.

Sans closed his eyes, lifting his arm with what little strength he had left to tuck the red, tattered scarf he wore around his neck a bit more snuggly against his chin. It hurt to move, to try and breathe, but he needed to inhale- to scent the cold, dying memory of his brother on that inherit fabric, on that signature item he seemed to love so much. Stars, even the memory of his last words to her stung to remember.

“I STILL BELIEVE IN YOU,” he’d said and when he spoke, he spoke for all of monster kind. They did believe in her- in Frisk. They believed she’d be the one to save them, to break them from their shackles and set them free. Too bad freedom had to come with such a costly price. Their lives, all of them, gone in an instant. He supposed they had been too trusting, too willing to believe that such a small human could do anything against their kind, and that was their downfall.

As it was his downfall.

His.

“looks like i’m the one who had a bad time,” he croaked, gurgling a bit as he chuckled and red, pooling blood dripped from his mouth as he spoke. He coughed and it was almost like it was raining with how the blood spattered back down against his teeth and cheekbones. It felt warm, but only for an instant before the cool air of the now abandoned Snowdin froze the fluids where they lay.

Sans hadn’t made it to Grillby’s as he’d originally intended. He hadn’t even known why he’d said what he’d said or gone where he’d gone. Habit? Saving face? Naivety? Everyone was gone. Everyone. So who did he think he’d find by going back there? The thought hit him like a punch to the back of the skull and fresh tears began to well in his already stinging eyes.

“papyrus...” he muttered, “paps, bro, m-my brother...”

It’d all felt so ritualistic to him. He was hurt, he felt alone, so he went home- to Grillby’s- where he’d always find his brother waiting for him. Arms crossed and feet tapping as if to say, ‘YOU'RE BETTER THAN A GREASY PLACE LIKE THIS! WHY WASTE TIME HERE WHEN YOU COULD BE CREATING PUZZLES WITH ME?’- except this time he hadn’t even made it to the front doors. Not even close. He’d managed a jump, a few steps and then he’d collapsed beside the mailboxes just outside their shared space. Right there in the snow, next to all the letters he’d never read and the immaculate, yet desolate, state of the ground beside it. 

Papyrus never got any letters, he wasn’t even sure if the two of them knew what their address was to give out to anyone, and yet there was the proof that someone knew in his overstuffed mess of a mail pile. Rolling his head to the side, he managed to eye one of the free envelopes and was only slightly surprised to see that familiar scrawl of handwriting.

‘To: Sans  
From: Your Brother, The Great Papyrus’

He let his eyes wander lazily to another-

‘To: Sans  
From: Your Brother, The Great Papyrus’

-and another-

‘To: Sans  
From: Your Brother, The Great Papyrus’

\- and another, until his frantic, searching, gaze seemed to have read each legible envelope within his steadily thinning cone of sight. They were all from him. All of them. Sure, there could have been a few from Grillby in there, ‘pay up your tab’ they would have said, not even bothering to address who it was from, but at the surface of it all, throughout the entire majority, all Sans could see was that his brother was the one that had inked each individual letter. He wondered what they said. If Papyrus was scolding him for not reading his mail, or at least for not bringing it inside where he could continue to not read it in there.

He felt another stream of warm fluid running down the side of his face and could see, from the corner of his eye, as it fell, stamping the snow with small unassuming splotches of freshly shed tears. There was blood there too. A bright redness that seemed to have been pooling around his head like a halo as he’d lain there and reminisced on what he’d had before, on what he’d lost. It looked wrong- the red against the white- the stark contrast much too sharp and much too garish to be anything real and tangible in a world where red only looked good on a scarf and where said scarf only looked good on his brother.

Sans wore that scarf now. Red mingling with red as his hand dropped and the scarf loosened and dipped into the pool around his head, his shoulders- 

“oh...” he spoke on a whisper now, the strength in his tone leaving him as he realized the blood hadn’t been coming from his mouth, from the cough, as he’d originally thought, but from the gash in his abdomen. He’d bled so much that it had soaked through his favorite coat and bathed him in its unbefitting hue. He supposed he didn’t have much time left now, could feel his body seem to lighten as his breathing slowed and his eyes grew heavy.

It was just like going to sleep.

He closed his eyes and he was with Papyrus, their tandem steps making equal crunching and shuffling sounds in the snow as they walked through Snowdin. Side by side. 

Together. 

Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I knew how to link inspired by art, but I fudged it, so just have the url and godspeed.
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/frostious/art/get-up-and-go-home-you-lazybones-760201683
> 
>  **Edit:** Oh wow, this person and I are on the same wavelength- I looked further into their gallery and found this piece that word for word syncs up with what I'd written. How wonderfully sad!
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/frostious/art/together-forever-760305287


End file.
